


share your address

by blvkebellamy



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Neighbours, and murphys oblivious, so clarkes magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blvkebellamy/pseuds/blvkebellamy
Summary: "Murphy opened his apartment door, hating life and himself for getting wasted the night before. His head throbbed with the force of his hangover since of course, he was out of Advil, so there would be no drug-induced reprieve for him. Stepping out into the hallway, he trudged to the elevators, nodding slightly at the girl covered in lizards.Wait.Lizards?He looked back and yes, there were, in fact, lizards. They covered her, head to toe. She was wearing a soft-looking sweater and some flannel pajama pants, blonde hair swinging as she muttered to the lizards in urgent, hushed tones. "Or; Murphy has a weird neighbour.





	share your address

**Author's Note:**

> hi. im obsessed with clurphy. blame kee (probably-voldemort). also i know clarkes kinda ooc pls forgive me.

Murphy opened his apartment door, hating life and himself for getting wasted the night before. His head throbbed with the force of his hangover since  _ of course,  _ he was out of Advil, so there would be no drug-induced reprieve for him. Stepping out into the hallway, he trudged to the elevators, nodding slightly at the girl covered in lizards.

Wait.

Lizards?

He looked back and yes, there were, in fact, lizards. They covered her, head to toe. She was wearing a soft-looking sweater and some flannel pajama pants, blonde hair swinging as she muttered to the lizards in urgent, hushed tones. 

Murphy had seen her a couple of times when he was getting mail, but he never talked to her. He liked to say it was his prickly disposition. Emori said he was just a dick. 

Murphy planned to just slip out unnoticed, ready to file this moment in his  _ Weird Things We Don’t Talk About  _ section in his brain when the girl turned to look at him, eyes wide. She flushed, gaze quickly darting over the lizards on her as if she was looking for a place to hide them.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again when one of the lizards tried to launch itself into it. Murphy sensed her turmoil and decided to cut her a bit of slack.

“So,” Murphy started conversationally, voice rough with sleep, “lizards?”

The girl seemed surprised that he was actually talking to her which,  _ rude _ . Murphy could be nice. She nodded, dislodging a couple of them. Immediately, they clambered back up. “Uh, yeah,” the girl replied, gently removing a lizard from her face, “lizards.”

Murphy nodded. The girl looked close to throwing a lizard at him and making a run for it.

“Cool,” Murphy said, turning back to the elevator. He heard her stutter, probably trying to explain the situation, but he opted to ignore it. Drawing attention to someone when they’re embarrassed wasn’t cool. Murphy was a dick but at least he had class.

***

The next time he sees her, it’s around five in the morning. Murphy had just finished his shift at the bar, making him stumble through the hall loudly, using the walls more than anything to guide him back. He’s never taking a late-night shift again, Miller be damned. 

Murphy reached his door after what seemed like the longest walk in history. He fished out his keys, trying in vain to get his sluggish fingers to work. Just as he found the right one, a sharp crash behind him made him drop it. He let out a grunt in frustration, turning around to see what the fuck made that sound.

It was the lizard girl. This time she was wearing a cloak, or maybe a robe. There was a floating mason jar, just chilling. She plucked it out of the air, turning it around and inspecting it. Small, round objects bounced from inside the jar. They sort of looked like eyes.

Wait.

“Are those eyes?” Murphy blurted out, unable to stop himself.

The girl jumped, almost dropping the jar in her haste to put it behind her back.

“They’re not human,” she said quickly. She immediately winced, realising just how suspicious that sounded.

Murphy eyed her. She didn’t seem like the type of person to harvest eyes and keep them in jars, but then again looks can be deceiving. “D’you get them ethically?” Murphy asked.

“Yes,” the girl says resolutely. 

Murphy squinted at her, the light from her apartment hurting his eyes. From where he was standing, he could see plants  _ everywhere.  _ She was basically living in a jungle. There were a couple of old books and terrariums around, nothing too unusual. 

Murphy realised the silence had stretched too long and the girl was still waiting for him to do something. Recomposing himself, he nodded, turning back to his door. He had just unlocked it when another thought popped into his head.

“You’re not a serial killer, right?” Murphy said, turning back to look at the girl.

“God, Jesus, no,” the girl replied, shaking her head vehemently. The jar was on the ground now, and she seemed actually disgusted by the idea which was good enough for Murphy.

Murphy nodded again. “Okay. Cool. Night,” he says, stepping into his apartment.

Just as he was about to close the door, he heard the girl say something.

“Clarke.”

Murphy turned and made a vague sound of questioning.

“My name,” the girl reiterated, “it’s Clarke.”

Even in Murphy’s delirious state, he could see the faint blush that dusted her cheeks. That, or his eyes were fucking up. He needed to sleep. Wait, did he lock up the bar?

Whilst contemplating this, Murphy saw Clarke shift slightly. It was enough to break him out of his thoughts. He watched Clarke for a second, then realised how fucking creepy that was. How long had he been quiet? Too long, probably. He should say something.

“Murphy,” he grunted out, trying to hold his hand out for a handshake. He ended up just raising it in the air, palm facing up. Close enough.

Clarke smiled warmly, relief evident in the line of her shoulders. She stepped closer to him, taking his hand in her own. It was small and calloused, the nails bitten to stubs. They stood there for a second, probably too close for two relative strangers. Fuck it. It was five in the morning. Murphy could afford to gaze a little helplessly into her ridiculously blue eyes.

Black spots dotted his vision.

_ That’s not good. _

Clarke’s brow furrowed, her other hand not holding Murphy’s reaching up to his forehead. 

“Are you okay? You feel pretty warm,” she said, turning her hand so that the back of it was now pressed against his face. Her touch was cold, almost icy. It felt refreshing against his admittedly hot skin.

“M’fine,” Murphy slurred, “jus’ need to sleep.”

“You should probably do that then,” she said, letting her hand drop down.

Neither of them moved. Even with Murphy’s barely working brain he could feel the tension between them. 

Clarke’s eyes flicked down to his lips, lingering for a second before looking back up. Was she always this close?

Before Murphy could answer that, Clarke cleared her throat, effectively breaking the moment.

She took a step back, walking backwards towards her door.

“Goodnight, Murphy,” she said, giving him a little wave.

Murphy mock saluted–or at least tried to–back.

“Night, Clarke.”

***

Nowadays, seeing Clarke in the midst of something weird was actually pretty normal for Murphy. It became a sort of game for him, trying to guess what she was (sometimes literally) tangled up in. The door to her apartment was more open than not now and Clarke was almost always doing something mildly shady. 

Today, Murphy stepped out to find Clarke standing in the middle of her living room with a large plant pot on her head. Vines cascaded in a thick curtain around her, hiding her from view. He would’ve thought the plant was just on a tall table if it weren’t for the white fluffy socks peeking out from the bottom.

Murphy approached her doorway, rapping his knuckles on the frame. Clarke (he assumed) jumped and turned to face him. A hand poked free from the vines, parting them to reveal a face. Clarke’s face, thankfully. She was holding a thick book in her other hand, something he hadn’t noticed before. 

She brightened when she saw him, mouth stretching into a genuine smile.

“Murphy!” She smiled, taking the plant pot on her head and setting it down on her kitchen table, tripping only one time, to her evident delight. She hopped up to sit on her table, waving Murphy inside with her book. 

“Hey,” Murphy grinned back. “Whatchu reading?”

“Uh… Advanced Care for Enchanted Plants and Other Creatures?” Clarke said, speaking the title so fast Murphy almost missed it. Clarke fidgeted slightly with the edge of her (really adorable) sweater, as if she was waiting for him to call her out on something.

Murphy looked at the book. Then back at Clarke. Then at the plant.

“Cool,” Murphy said, unperturbed, “is it for your buddy there?” He asked, pointing at her plant.

Clarke’s shoulders relaxed at his answer, letting a breath loose. “Yeah,” she nodded, “He’s got these yellow spots and I can’t get rid of them. I’ve tried basically everything.”

Murphy steps into the apartment. “Do you mind if I…?” He gestures with his phone.

“Oh! Oh no, not at all.”

Murphy opens up his messager and takes a picture of the spots. He sends them to Emori. She like plants. She’ll know what to do.

Not even a minute later, he has a reply.

**Emori:**

_ food _

**Me:**

_ food? _

**Emori: **

_ plant food _

_ u hve some in ur house _

**Me:**

_ no i dont _

**Emori:**

_ yea u do _

_ lower bathroom cabinet _

Murphy frowned at the text but quickly dismissed his confusion. Emori had ways. 

“Gimme a sec, I’ll be right back,” he said, rushing back into his house. Lo and behold, there, in his lower bathroom cabinet, was the plant food. Right as he found it, a message from Emori lit up his phone.

**Emori**

_ told u _

Murphy rolled his eyes, snagging the plant food and jogging slightly over to Clarke who was talking in hushed tones with her plant.

“Food,” Murphy said unceremoniously, depositing the bag of plant food on her table with a dull  _ thunk. _

“Food?” Clarke asked, poking at the bag.

“For plants. That’s why he’s yellow. He needs to eat.”

Clarke scrunched her nose up in a way that’s totally  _ not cute,  _ confusion lacing her features _ .  _ “What? Seriously? That–that makes a lot of sense, actually. Thanks,” she added, smiling at Murphy in a way that makes her eyes crinkle slightly.

“No problem,” Murphy said, breathless in a way that’s too embarrassing to think about.  _ God, I’m going soft. _

Clarke opened her mouth, about to say something when a loud  _ pop  _ goes off in her kitchen. “Oh no,” she said, rushing towards the trail of smoke. She stopped halfway, remembering Murphy. Her head swivelled to her kitchen, then back to him.

“Go,” Murphy told her, “don’t burn down the complex.”

Clarke smiled and ran to her kitchen. “Thanks again for the plant food!” Clarke called out.

“No problem!” Murphy yelled back, leaving her to deal with whatever exploded.

***

Murphy was actually asleep at a reasonable time for once, dreaming about whatever the fuck makes him happy. It was peaceful. He was at peace. 

A loud crash startled Murphy out of his peaceful as fuck dream. It’s Clarke. Murphy knows in his bones that Clarke has something to do with it. That’s why he knows for a fact that he wasn’t sleeping until he made sure she was okay.

_ Fuck  _ crushes, man.

Murphy pulled himself out of his bed, making sure to grab the bat Emori gave him. Double checking that it was the one embedded with nails, Murphy stepped out into the hallway.

The first thing he saw was green. It was everywhere. Murphy quickly searched the scene before his eyes land on Clarke. Vines encircled her arms and legs, throwing her against the wall repeatedly. 

Murphy couldn’t help the small choked sound he made. It was loud enough for Clarke to notice. She glanced at him quickly before biting harshly at the vine on her wrist. The creature dropped her harshly, allowing Clarke to scramble towards a stick.

_ A stick? _

“Stay out of this, Murphy!” Clarke yelled, dodging another vine only to be caught at the waist.

_ Fuck that _ , Murphy thought.

He dived into his house, rummaging through his cabinets until he found the weed killer Emori probably sneaked into his house. He sprinted back out, weed killer in one hand and his bat in the other. He hopped over various leaves and stalks on the floor, trying to get to Clarke.

Once he was relatively close, he unscrewed the spray attachment and poured it directly on the vine that held Clarke. The entire plant retreated, releasing Clarke who fell with a resounding thud. Murphy had no time to bask in his achievements as the plant was on him in a second. 

It snaked around his body, throwing him against the wall. Just before the plant can fucking  _ curb stomp  _ him, Clarke had her stick (a wand?) in her hand.

“Subtraxerim Utilium!” Clarke shouted, a blast of yellow light following her words.

It hit the plant squarely in its centre. For a second, everything was quiet. Then the plant started to  _ vibrate, _ shrinking back into Clarke’s apartment. Murphy watched as it returned back to the plant pot it started out in, small and innocent.

Murphy was about to get up and smash it with his bat when Clarke was at his side. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, hands running up and down his sides to check for injuries.

“Clarke.”

“It was all my fault and it just got so out of hand–”

“Clarke it’s–”

“–you could’ve gotten really hurt and I don’t know what I’d–”

“Clarke!” Murphy said, grasping Clarke’s face between his hand. He made her look at him, and when he was sure she wouldn’t say anything, he smiled. “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know–”

“I’m fine,” Murphy said again, louder this time, “and you’re a witch.”

Clarke paled.

“A witch?” She sputtered, backing up as much as she could while still maintaining contact with Murphy, “that’s dumb. Witches don’t exist. What makes you think  _ I’m  _ a witch? Me of all people!”

Murphy raised an eyebrow.

All the fight seem to leave Clarke in an instant.

“Yeah, I’m a witch.”

Murphy shrugged. “It’s cool. Emori’s a witch, too. She went to Hogwarts.”

Clarke looked dumbstruck. “Wait, what?”

“Hogwarts. It’s a school in–”

“I know what Hogwarts is. I went to Ilvermorny.”

Murphy smiled at her. “You’re pretty bad at the secret part of being a witch.”

Clarke huffed. “Well, maybe I wanted you to know.”

Murphy felt his expression turn soft and dopey. He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah?”

Clarke blushed. “Yeah.”

“Do you mind if I kiss you?” Murphy blurted out. Once he realised what he said, he felt his eyes grow wide. He refused to be embarrassed, though. That was for the weak.

Clarke looked taken aback for a second but she recovered quickly, nodding enthusiastically.

Murphy didn’t need any more encouragement. He cupped his hand behind her neck, bringing her towards him. Once they finally met he felt a sigh of relief escape him. Her lips were soft and slightly chapped, moving easily with his. She brought a hand up to clutch at his shirt, tugging him closer. Her other hand moved to cup his jaw, angling him to her liking.

After a while, Murphy started to feel his neck cramp up. He was completely content with continuing but he must have winced, because in the next second, Clarke was pulling away. Her lips were red and swollen, hair half-falling out of her ponytail.

She was beautiful.

_ Fuck, I’m such a sap. _

“Wanna watch a movie?” She asked, eyes alight with something that probably wasn’t just the hall lights.

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @blvke-bellamy ;)


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